Twilight
by Endhouser
Summary: Instead of being the Chief of Police, Charlie Swan is a notorious hitman. This is the story of a blacker twilight: same people, same setting, one little twist and a whole new story. Read and find out.


**Disclaimer: We all know that nobody owns anything anymore nowadays… I don't own Twilight.**

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**Chapter 1: Empty House**

Bella toyed with her switchblade, striving to flick out the knife and slash the air in one fluid motion as her father's car sped through the night-shrouded route 101. The low humming produced by the powerful engine filled in the foreboding silence; for the second time in the month, Charlie Swan is hiding his daughter away before he goes about business; not having her in sight seems to unnerve him more than dragging corpses away from the scene.

Orange flecks of light flashed pass the car windows at regular intervals; they unsteadied Bella's fingers. Not aware that he was speaking, Charlie chanted "keep her close keep her close can't keep her close Steven Casso Steven Casso who" under his breath like a mantra for the insane.

Bella felt the familiar tingle of a tear behind her eyes and stared into the inky night sky. The autumn chill nibbled at their bones and insides as they neared their destination.

"When will you be back?" Bella whispered as the edge of forest where the solitary gray house lay concealed fell into her sight.

"Have you got your photographs?"

"Yeah." The sudden flashback of the images of innocent faces smiling to the camera brought out a shiver which the cold turned to shudder. All of them relatives of the victims, from infants to crumpled ole men. People out for their blood.

"Keys to the cabinets and the car?"

Bella stowed the knife away and rummaged in her coat pocket until something jingled.

"Right here, dad."

Charlie sighed, suddenly pulling up in front of an obscure dirt path into the forest. "Go. Go on. Make _sure_ no one sees you, and run from the backdoor if things get heavy."

"Please, when…" Bella began.

"But _no one_ gets a _glimpse_ of you," Charlie repeated, sounding more assured this time, "They shall see that the house is empty." Then he laughed to himself.

Bella paused uncertainly before saying goodbye and getting out of the car. Something began rumbling and, within seconds, the car brushed past her fingertips and receded into the black.

Bella was left alone.

She stumbled blindly along the unlit path. They never carried flashlights as a rule for fear of drawing attention. They never owned cell phones for fear of being traced. They never were together unless before a murder. They were the night crawlers in the filth. Low. Incredibly low.

Charlie the hitman used to be just one of _those_ men, gambling being his greatest sin. Then one day everything started happening; Renee took a bullet between her eyes, spraying thick, crimson blood over the lawn she mowed.

And Charlie ran out, screaming…

Bella mechanically retrieved the key from under the eave (Renee's habit to keep it there) and unlocked the door to the house. It was blacker inside, but the windows where barred and the curtains were drawn so she could turn on the light. A single light bulb flickered to life overhead.

Her shadow crossed the dusty front room, revolved around the brightest point of cement ground, grew fainter and longer before fading away. The creaking of cupboard doors sounded from the kitchen.

A while later, Bella appeared once more with an open can of soup in one hand, a six-gun in another. She made her way across the empty space, ascended upstairs… halfway… gone.

And so only the rest of the night remained.

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Bella woke up with a migraine. She trudged into the bathroom and checked herself over in the grime-specked mirror. The cadaverous complexion was disconcerting, as were the shadowy rings around her eyes.

Six weeks with no Charlie, she had begun to dread the worst. No food was replenished, only panic. She was going to starve to death unless she snuck out: to Forks, maybe, where there was the nearest store.

She thought about Charlie while cleaning up. If it really happened to Charlie this time she would shoot herself. She had long realized that she hated him but loved him an ocean more.

_Renee used to say prayers for him… but Renee's dead, and my prayers would never count…_ _please God please let him be alive. Amen. _Isabella Marie Swan whispered a prayer.

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By noon, Bella found herself pacing desperately behind a roadside tree, one turn away from Forks' local grocery store. Seven weeks was what it took to burn up every morsel of food. When no amount of reading or counting backwards could distract her from the hunger anymore, her instincts simply took over. If Charlie was hiding somewhere, she needed to be there for him. That means staying alive and keeping out of the reach of enemies; nobody knows what they'd make Charlie do if they catch hold of her.

Exposure could be instantaneously damning, so she left the revolver in the house buried under her pillow. Nonetheless, she had her switchblade tucked securely in her jeans pocket to prevent anybody catching her alive. Despite common belief, struggling is almost certainly futile when it comes to being cornered; Charlie had taught her that.

Having finally made up her mind about hitting the store, she gave in to the mangling pain in her stomach that pulled her toward food one feeble step at a time.

Once inside the store, Bella was relieved to note that not many people were shopping there. It wasn't a large store, but one sufficiently stocked for the townsfolk. Two chattering teenage girls in flashy skirts passed in front of her. She ducked her head and hastily went in search of the canned goods section.

As she was contemplating how much she ought to buy without attracting notice and how much she could buy with the little money she had (Charlie didn't leave much; he didn't have much due to the constant blackmail), she nearly bumped into a pushcart. "Sorry." Her heart clenched before she muttered an apology to people behind the pushcart and ducked her head again.

"It's alright, honey." A warm, melodious voice immediately replied. Bella moved aside to let the push cart pass and kept her eyes down while the voice thanked her and the cart resumed its course.

All at once, the cart croaked to a stop. Some one gasped and silence proceeded.

Bella looked up.

She saw a slender, caramel-haired woman with an ethereal beauty that froze her in awe. Half turned toward the left, the heart-shaped face and soft features reminded her of the ingénues in the silent-movie era; only there was half an expression of shock and horror blended to the picture.

Bewildered, Bella followed her gaze.

Beside the woman, silent throughout the time, stood a man.

Bella's heart skipped three paces as the photographs went through her mind and her hand groped for her pocket. The man looked tall, lethal, livid, and striking. His black, hostile eyes captured Bella's as soon as she dared look into them; the intensity of the fury and lust in them ensnared her in a world of savagery, making her feel helpless and insignificant.

Bella began to tremble. She knew the expression on his face so well; it was murder. The painful kind of murder. Somehow everything was coming to an end in the hands of this demon Adonis.

The man took an unsteady step forward. Bella stared in terror, rooted to the spot.

"Edward! What's wrong?" The woman sounded frantic.

In background, a cell phone began to ring.

Edward clenched his teeth in frustration and took another step forward.

In an instant, the woman appeared before Bella, blocking her from the man called Edward. "There are people watching, Edward! Edward, please listen to me. You will regret this."

The phone kept ringing.

Edward let out a ragged sob and took another step forward.

"Esme, I'm sorry. Esme, go back to Carlisle. Tell him I'm going away for a while."

Esme, now looking close to tears, merely shook her head.

_Run! Run! _A voice inside Bella's head screamed repeatedly. But she couldn't bring herself to move as incomprehension and blind fear momentarily deprived her of reason.

Two people ran up behind Bella, attracting the attention of an elderly man looking at toothpastes. Bella swiveled round in instinctive self-defense. They (a small woman and a huge man) rushed past Bella and stood in front of Esme.

One of them, the petite woman with black spiky hair, spoke out without removing her eyes from Edward.

"Run, Bella."

With a startle cry, Bella turned and ran.

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**AN. I'm not sure if this story is worth continuing … all depends on the public reaction, of course. Lol.**

**If you think anything's out of keeping in this chapter, please please please please please let me know. I'm certainly not the best of writers, and I _do_ make _lots _of mistakes.**

**Also, if you have any suggestions or comments regarding the plot, feel free to tell me. I try my best to make sure that this story develops how most of you want it to.**

**Finally, dear reader, review. ****Thank you for reading untill the very end. (Even the AN! lol)**


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